Green Guilt

Posted on Tue Sep 1st, 2020 @ 5:59am by Ensign Zinzeria Cavanaugh

Mission: Welcome Aboard!
Location: USS Liberty

Being on the ship was a dream come true, even for someone as lacking in ambition as Zinzeria always had been. They got better at navigating the corridors and turbolifts, and they even were starting to get a hang of the Ops console, though their favourite shifts were always the ones where they were left alone down in Science Lab 3, fiddling about with the Universal Translation program. Another Ensign had given them the idea to work on better translations of slang and colloquialisms, and it was proving to be a quite satisfying endeavour.

Today though? Today they were back at Ops, at least, they were supposed to be, but they had taken the wrong turbolift and now they were somehow lost on Deck 11. No one had commed them to ask their whereabouts, but the Orion wasn't entirely sure if that was positive or negative. Did they forget that the Ensign was supposed to be aboard, or had the Captain given up on them already? They certainly had clearly demonstrated those Academy grades that had got them sent out to Q'Tahl in the first place. With a grimace they backtracked through a secondary corridor, trying to remember where the turnoff was.

One hand reaching for a turbolift panel, Zinzeria stalled, a confused expression crossing their face. Something was... off. Trying to put a finger on it, they punched the call button a second time, tilting their head a little. There. That was the problem.... the ship's engines had gone silent. Eyes widening in distress they hit the button a few more times, not that that had ever summoned a lift faster in the whole history of ... well ... ever.

Lights flickered and the ship shook, sending the linguist and a few off-duty crew members sprawling across the corridor floor. Picking themself up, Zinzeria rushed forward to help an Ensign whose face they just couldn't place. Being a specialist meant that they got private quarters instead of bunking in the Lower Decks, but that, in turn, had put a bit of a divide between them and the other Ensigns. Smiling brightly, hoping that a cheery and helpful attitude would bridge the rest of the gap, they shook their head in amusement. "Always a few bumps and bruises on a shakedown cruise, at least that's what I've heard. Is this your first posting?"

The pretty human female opened her mouth to respond when the ship shook again, worse this time. Ushering the off-duty ensigns through the nearest doorway that would open... Zinzeria nodded once to themself. Stellar Cartography would be safe enough for their two new friends, and with an understanding handclasp, they headed back into the corridors. Something was going on aboard the Liberty today, and they were going to get to the bottom of it. Back in the corridor the ship lurched again and made a sound that the Orion interpreted as Not Good. Calling up the display they examined the options, where was the nearest place they might be of use?

The distinct sound of transportation echoed in the now empty corridor and the linguist froze, turning slightly to stare in horror at the bend in the corridor. How...? Were their shields down? Were they being BOARDED? Four years in Klingon space and they had never been this frightened. The sound of voices carried along the corridor, rough, unfamiliar voices, though the language was uncomfortably familiar.

One problem with being a Federation Officer from a non-Federation race was that, from time to time, you would see awfully familiar-looking faces staring back at you from the wrong side of a phaser or a disrupter. Not that they had spent much time amidst their people growing up, not once their mother remarried and their little family moved to that mixed-inhabitant colony on Boradis III. The sound of doors opening would only attract attention at this point, but there were the two scared ensigns in cartography to consider... Taking a deep breath and calling themself every kind of fool, Zinzeria darted forward and hit the lock on the doors to Stellar Cartography, only a Starfleet officer that outranked them could open it if they didn't make it back now.

A shout went up down the hall, and the Ensign turned and ran. Where to go. Where to go??? As science personnel, they didn't have access to any of the security armories. That left only two options - The Bridge, where they should have been this whole time, or their own quarters where they had a very nice Klingon dagger that they weren't exactly a slouch with. Another shout in their native tongue, someone had seen them take the corner, and their options were becoming fewer and fewer. The boarding party was between them and the turbolift, and that left an option that, given different circumstances, would have excited them a bit.

Thirty seconds into crawling through the Jeffries tubes and all thoughts of romanticizing the endeavor had fled Zinzeria's idiotic brain. This wasn't fun, it was cramped and smelled funny. On the plus side, whoever was following was far bigger than they were and was having even less fun than they were. With their much smaller form they were making way better time, swiftly leaving their pursuer behind. All around was the sound of phaser and disrupter fire on the decks, screams of crew members, and running feet. Zinzeria felt like a coward, safely tucked away in the tubes, but what help would they be, unarmed as they were? Eight more decks to go and they'd be at Crew quarters.

-Ensign Zinzeria Cavanaugh, Linguistic Specialist